


Close/d

by Bambi_Verlaine



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Angst, Emotions, Fluff and Angst, Other, Solitude, beyond baroque, cheesy and pretentious please don't read, greysexual bound, platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambi_Verlaine/pseuds/Bambi_Verlaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once more, with feelings. Queerplatonic!Rick x Neil galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close/d

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a short queerplatonic! Neil x Rick series (the second and final chapter would be a prequel before this, the night before). I intended to create an intricate angsty device but it turned into a flipping pretentious and probably confusing draft. The name was very improvised and temporary, but I like the idea that the English word "close/d" relates affective proximity as much as detached opacity. My DIY English is bloody awful and more ramshackle than usual, and I'm more obnouxiously baroque here than ever :P but I wholeheartedly hope you like! Long live to us radical poofs, eye wide big bottomed a/sex/gender bandits and conspirateurs! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The English here is really really awful and this is more or less a draft. I'll happily accept help/suggestions regarding grammar, ortography and narrative advices in general! :)

Rick and Neil are sitting next to each other on the dank, wooden floor of Neil’s bedroom. The floor was souless cold, the chamber smelled like damp and decaying wood. They remain in silence, less than a head of distance, for about 40 minutes, just staring at the window. They’re feeling their breaths inside their mouths, mildly hotter than the air surrounding them. Their chests go upside and down intermittently, engaged in some kind of somatic-mechanical locomotive rhthym rutine. Breathing machines doing mute coreographies with inner projection screens inside their eyes. What images do are they constructing, feeling, sensing there? Their hands were at their sides, resting on the icy floor; both feeling the uneasiness of such strange still positions in their exhausted muscles. How long where they like that?, gasped Rick in thoughts, slowly sliding his eyes towards a silent Neil. And then he panicked, his heart imploded inside him like a reverse Supernova swalled by vacuum, slowly burning backwards into a tiny TV dot. He dropped his head lightly, feeling his vision blur by advacing ghostly spaces in the corners. He was dizzy and his body seemed to be suddenly invaded by frying molecules all scattered around like pearl drops of a broken necklace. He was livid and frightened to death, combusting himself in vapours of anxiety, while looking at Neil as some sort of distant, terrying pyramid. He shaked his head, at the verge of fainting. 

This time was extending itself too long for this scene of all things stucked. To Neil, the whole image related like an ambarine symbolist banquet, he could imagine it washed in lots of golden and brown tones, magnificent brushes of russet velvet and lichen, wood, autumns, the outside, the inside, the connection between two spaces: the pastoral, magical space of a forest recently washed by a cold, urban rain and now it was dusk and Rick’s. Rick instead felt trapped within a sort of uncanny Beckett play. New wave angst and expressionism. Clocks, time, geometrical shadows. Control! To him, both were looking like forgotten mechanical puppets thrown away in a blank room. A metaphorical, conceptual, rancid dead space. It’s the end, we can’t leave this situation, we can’t move, we can’t run, we can’t evolve from this. This wasn’t golden intimacy, this was an utter nightmare.

Staring at the window, Neil felt the fire in the coy, stifled looks of his convoluted partner. He had already look at him before, quiet and squirmy like a soup of fizzy lemonade. He was breathing LOUDER than him, he could already hear Rick violently breathing, his crashing-sound like tambourine thoughts (highly contrasted like a montage of red and black screens). Neil didn’t feel quite confortable either, his contractured body hurted and he could see the tiny hairs of his exposed rosy ankles shivering all over his freezed skin. He felt confined to a horrid situation that reclaimed him and Rick’s being petrified there at the first place and seemed to scream EVERYTHING’S IN PLACE in the back of their heads. Neil was fed up, he was done with all that, nobody was collaborating in making life less harsh, less impervious to people who already felt things and were sensible as fuck, he was simply tired. Neil took the impulse given by a sigh to defrost his body turning his head and leaning towards Rick. “Rick, I like you” said, very very quietly in a phrase that sounded like the vibration of a single cord launched into space, like transfering a trembling nest to someone else hands, like a precious, fragile, difficult secret that would only became audible at the deliberate silence of other’s streams of thoughts. Tenderness, he needed softness. Some mass of warmness opened through Rick throat. He expected a scream, but he knew Neil was staring at his cracked shaky lips when all he got was a smothered flower turned into a humble sigh instead. Tired and in the need of softness, tenderness is such an experimental adventure in this place that is already too ruthless. The encounter of sighs is rapid, powder spread that setted the room on blazing fire. Is the amplification of a doubt screened in the walls, the anticipation of a kiss or the shadow of a kiss that never ocurred. A silent fire and the need to be there, to move on, to transform something. Both reply to this hunger, both closing their eyes and bravely leaning their heads to each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Queerplatonic!Rick x Neil started to be such an obsession to me. This was written and dedicated to my sweet friend of mine.


End file.
